


toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty

by altissimozucca



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Some descriptions of people missing body parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altissimozucca/pseuds/altissimozucca
Summary: The chattering stopped. Max could feel tenths of pairs of eyes fall upon him the same second his feet made contact with the ground; trying his best to not let his irritation show, he walked up to the bar. “A beer,” he said to the bartender, who was shooting him dirty looks.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't watched The Witcher on Netflix, go watch it, it's great.

**The sound of** hooves clacking against the cobblestone path of the town sounded menacing, stark against the silence that had fallen upon Fonteveille in the past couple of weeks. Curious heads of residents peeked through the windows, trying to get a good look at the mysterious rider of the black Friesian.

With his hands tightly gripping the reins, Max didn’t let the audience bother him. He had been asked to come down to Fonteveille in order to rid the town of a menacing beast that had been terrorising them since ten days ago. They lived their days in fear, men had been attacked and none of them had gotten a good night’s sleep ever since the disappearance of the first villager.

Max rode down towards the tavern, dropping to the ground from his horse and handled it to the caretaker. Not saying a word to the shaking man, the witcher entered the crowded tavern through the saloon doors, wooden floor creaking beneath his heavy, leather boots.

The chattering stopped. Max could feel tenths of pairs of eyes fall upon him the same second his feet made contact with the ground; trying his best to not let his irritation show, he walked up to the bar. “A beer,” he said to the bartender, who was shooting him dirty looks.

“We don’t serve your kind here, _Witcher,”_ the last word was spit out like an insult; Max heard it a thousand times already. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he sent the man a heavy glare and threw some coin at the splintered, oaken surface, causing the man to flinch outwardly.

“A beer,” Max repeated, voice laced with finality and force. The man behind the bar shot him one last dirty look before grabbing a wooden stein and filling it with the drink, placing it in front of the darkly dressed man.

Max took a sip, tightening his grip around the handle when somebody came to stand next to him. He looked to the side, meeting a pair of blue eyes and a warm smile beneath a black cloak. The attention of the whole tavern seemed to be on them until the man waved them off, saying, “That’s no way to treat our guest.”

At that, the chattering that Max had heard from the outside continued once again. He stared at the other man emotionlessly. “Are you the one who called me here?” Max questioned, crossing his arms across his armoured chest.

The stranger pulled down his hood, shaking his head. “No, sir. I was sent here to bring you to Rocher by the prince,” his Fonteveillean accent was thick, making Max’s nose scrunch up in distaste.

He downed the rest of his beer, slamming the stein to the bar surface with more force than necessary and turned to his guide, “Let’s go.” The man nodded, and they left the tavern, Max purposefully slamming shoulders with some of the drunkards surrounding him. His company seemed amused, judging from the smirk playing on his lips.

After picking up his horse, he led him by the reins through Fonteveille. “It’s a beautiful one,” the servant commented, eyeing the Friesian with wonder. Max nodded, not up for a conversation about anything other than the monster.

They got to the palace and Max was immediately met by one of the three princes. It seemed to be the middle one, who nodded at the servant as soon as he saw him, “Thank you, Pierre.”

Pierre simply bowed, leaving into the palace and leaving Max alone with prince Charles. Max stared at him, sensing true worry coming from the prince. “I hear you’ve got some sort of a problem,” Max states, voice as indifferent as always.

“I don’t know what it is. It’s been showing up every night, murdering people. Just last night we found another victim, its guts torn open,” Charles said, disgust clear in his voice along with an undertone of something Max couldn’t place.

“Can I see the victims?” The prince nodded reluctantly, leading Max through the palace and into the basement, where they usually kept the bodies of deceased palace residents. Pierre and another man – _a sorcerer,_ Max realized immediately – were sitting next to a fire pit, both standing up at the sight of the men entering the room.

Max walked up to one of the sandpits, frowning at the slash going across the man’s chest; another one had eyes missing, gaping, bloody holes in their place. His mind was running a hundred miles per hour, walking from victim to victim. He could hear the three men talking behind him, their words just noise in his head.

Walking up to one of the bodies, Max stuck his hand in the stomach through the slash and ignored the gagging sound coming from behind him. He pulled back his hand, accepting the cloth Pierre had offered him and wiped the blood off.

“He’s missing a liver,” Max stated, pointing at the man. The sorcerer’s eyes widened immediately, and Max nodded at the question hanging over his head. “There are two creatures that feed off of human liver. Strigas and _vukodlaks._ I know for a fact this is not the doing of a striga, so that makes my life easier.”

Pierre looked horrified, eyes wide open, while Charles looked as if he was having a battle with himself – something Max didn’t miss. He turned to the sorcerer, “I’m going to wait out here tonight. Be prepared for anything.”

“What if you can’t defeat it?” the prince asked. Max almost scoffed, but bit his lip in the last second, managing to stop himself. There was a beat of silence in which he stepped closer to the prince, hand clasped around the hilt of his sword. The guards began moving towards him, but Charles raised his hand to stop them.

Max’s eyes were as cold as stone as he looked at Charles, “Do you not have any faith? Or are you so sure of your abilities, _Your Highness?”_

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr at altisssimozucca](https://altisssimozucca.tumblr.com/)


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